the bulletin which he published the day after the occasion, so soon as
he and his secretaries were in a condition to write: eagles, pyramids,
rainbows, the sun of Austerlitz, &c., figured in the proclamation, in
close imitation of his illustrious uncle. But the great benefit of the
action was this: on arousing from their intoxication, the late soldiers
of Joinville kissed and embraced their comrades of the Imperial army,
and made common cause with them.

"Soldiers!" said the Prince, on reviewing them the second day after the
action, "the Cock is a gallant bird; but he makes way for the Eagle!
Your colors are not changed. Ours floated on the walls of Moscow--yours
on the ramparts of Constantine; both are glorious. Soldiers of
Joinville! we give you welcome, as we would welcome your illustrious
leader, who destroyed the fleets of Albion. Let him join us! We will
march together against that perfidious enemy.

"But, Soldiers! intoxication dimmed the laurels of yesterday's glorious
day! Let us drink no more of the fascinating liquors of our native
Champagne. Let us remember Hannibal and Capua; and, before we plunge
into dissipation, that we have Rome still to conquer!

"Soldiers! Seltzer-water is good after too much drink. Wait awhile, and
your Emperor will lead you into a Seltzer-water country. Frenchmen! it
lies BEYOND THE RHINE!"

Deafening shouts of "Vive l'Empereur!" saluted this allusion of the
Prince, and the army knew that their natural boundary should be restored
to them. The compliments to the gallantry of the Prince of Joinville
likewise won all hearts, and immensely advanced the Prince's cause. The
Journal des Debats did not know which way to turn. In one paragraph it
called the Emperor "a sanguinary tyrant, murderer, and pickpocket;" in a
second it owned he was "a magnanimous rebel, and worthy of forgiveness;"
and, after proclaiming "the brilliant victory of the Prince of
Joinville," presently denominated it a "funeste journee."

The next day the Emperor, as we may now call him, was about to march on
Paris, when Messrs. Ruinart and Moet were presented, and requested to be
paid for 300,000 bottles of wine. "Send three hundred thousand more to
the Tuileries," said the Prince, sternly: "our soldiers will be thirsty
when they reach Paris." And taking Moet with him as a hostage, and
promising Ruinart that he would have him shot unless he obeyed, with
trumpets playing and eagles glancing in the sun, the gallant